iMLIA
by OMGitsSEDDIE
Summary: A collection of average drabbles pertaining to Sam and Freddie and their not-so-average relationship. Second and third: A Day in the Life of Fredward Benson and Fetish.
1. Hammer Time

**Hey, peoples! I'm sorry. Once school happened… well… it HAPPENED. So… yeahhhh… **

**On a less awkward note, this is a mostly dialogue fic devised from my incessant ponderings about the dynamics of cartoons and some searching through TVTropes (dot) org. Eventually, I happened upon the magical dimension called Hammerspace, or malletspace. That's some awesome chiz right there. So, this is me interpreted through Sam, basically. Sam could be me played up a bit – more arrests, more vain, more badass… Yeah, no. Sam's a BAMF. I'm a wannaBAMF. **

_**Disclaimer: **__If I owned iCarly, _I'd_ be the badass chick, and Freddie would be _my_ cute-nub-turned-hot-dork-boy-toy. Forever. And ever. And eeeeeeevvvvvveeeerrrrrrrrr._

_What was _in_ that sandwich Spencer packed? Carly went home sick, and now I'm here with Sam till the end of the day…_ Freddie shut his locker and leaned his already aching head against the poor metal.

"Hey, Freddork!" Sam burst into the hallway, frantically waving her notebook and running toward Freddie's locker.

"What is it now, Puckett?" He rolled his eyes. He was gonna be late to AP Biology if Sam didn't hurry this up.

"Imagine this: we're sittin' up in the sudio – just me, Carly, and… well, _you_ – watchin' Girly Cow. All of a sudden, Chezzie goes all wacko-insane-angry like on Girly and starts whacking her with a hammer."

"Mallet." Fredward Benson prided himself on being able to differentiate between things no one usually cared about, like hammers and mallets.

"Whatever As if it even _matters._" A hurt look from Freddie stopped her. "Suck it up, Benson! _Anyway_, my question is: where do those mallets come from? You know; those oversized hammers that obviously weren't there a second ago and are way too huge to hide behind your back! Do they appear out of nowhere, or is there some designated, unknown spot for them on a shelf in another dimension? And what about those Mary Poppins bags – the ones that hold _everything_? And cartoon characters that can hide stuff in their hair? And cartoon characters that can hide their hair in tiny little hats and helmets? And those girls who can fit entire bazookas in their… average sized bras? And those guys who can fit guns down their –?"

"SAM!"

"WHAT?"

"You're babbling."

_Slap._

"What was _that _for?'

"For being unapproving and blatantly ignorant of my unique, methodical fashion of articulating," she deadpanned, smirking at his shocked expression. "Now _answer _my _question_!!"

"It's called 'hammerspace', okay? There are whole websites written on just that one topic! Now leave me alone; I'm late for Bio!"

"Meh, I'm skipping anyway." Freddie saw a flash of paper in her pocket. He highly doubted she was gonna skip _again_, but…

"Saaaammm…"

"I don't wanna hear it, Benson! Off you go, nerd boy – don't wanna ruin your chances of going to Harvard."

"Why would you care where I go to college?"

"The farther away from me, the better it is for _all _of us."

"…Why do I hang out with you again?"

"Because, Freddison, I am your master – the single most important person you will ever encounter in your lifetime." She paused. "And I'm crazy like a fox." Another pause. "And I'm a freakin' goddess who's sexy and has magical hair." A smirk and raised eyebrows are exchanged.

Finally, Freddie rolled his eyes. "Later, 'Mistress' Puckett."

"See ya, Fredderly!" Grinning, she ran off to the computer lab.

Mr. Larvetson never _did_ come from his lunch break. An announcement from the office revealed that, because Mr. Larvetson was new to Washington state, he used a GPS to get around. Apparently, the GPS malfunctioned, and he ended up in Las Vegas.

He didn't bother coming back. The students had a free period, then went to their next class.

Freddie knew that only one person would mess with a teacher's GPS. After Spanish, he headed to the demon's locker.

"Sam, why on _Earth_ did you mess with his GPS?"

"Because unit tests suck, and even _dorks_ shouldn't have to suffer through _those_. Plus, my innocent, childlike questions concerning the physics of cartoons are more important to you than Bio will ever be."

"God, Sam, you might as well get me a collar that says 'Sam's Bitch' on it."

"At least you admit you're good and whipped! Other boys still think they have freedom. No boys have freedom with Mama…"

Freddie rolled his eyes. Wedlock with her would be terror. "How was study hall?"

"Uh, I skipped, Freddoofus."

"Nice try, Puckett. I saw the hall pass in your pocket."

"It was a detention slip!"

"Psh. Whatever, Sammy."

She grinned. "I hacked into the school's database and changed the week's lunch menus to ice cream, tater tots, fish sticks, and pizza!"

"And, of course, you're expecting _me _to buy all this for you."

"Who else, bitch?"

A playful sigh escaped his lips. He really didn't care, but his mom might wonder where that monthly eight bucks went… "Let's go, Princess."

"Whatever you say, Benson!" she said, skipping ahead of the poor boy, who had to trot to catch up with his hyperactive friend.

He scoffed. _What a girl._


	2. A Day in the Life of Fredward Benson

**Drabble drabble average average GRAR**

**Read. Review. Bake me some cookies. ...Please?**

**Disclaimer: **_Are you on crack? I. DON'T. OWN. I. CARLEH! _-_-*

I mentally patted myself on the back for a job well done on the English quiz, then went up and passed it in to Miss Murdoch.

"Thank you, Freddie," she said, fluttering her eyelashes flirtaciously.

Ew. Not even if she stopped wearing that ridiculous blue eyeshadow and learned how to put on her lipstick.

I grunted some form of a response and slid back into my desk, happy to be away from that pedophile we called a teacher.

Looking around, I saw the many strange mannerisms of my classmates that had become commonplace over the years: Gibby, shirtless as usual, was furiously scribbling in answers on his test. He had woken up late and was still in his boxers.

Taureen was babbling to Valerie about some "SuperHottieMegaBomb" called Nathan Kress, and Valerie was trying not to strangle the poor girl.

Wendy had finished her test, and was currently trying to dig her way to China. Shane was helping her dig with a shovel he found in the closet, next to a too-realistic-to-be-plastic skeleton (Don't ask.).

Sam was eating a mysteriously retrieved plate of ribs and writing her test answers with the BBQ sauce on her fingers. Carly was staring enviously, wishing she had Sam's rapid metabolism. She then pulled out a bottle of purple nail polish and started painting.

Westley (the kid who distracted Mr. Howard for us during our 50th webshow) was beatboxing that new song by Ganye East, Heartless, and Tequila was singing, rapping, and dancing along like the random, punchdrunk nutcase she is.

"Magic Malika" was... Actually, no one knew what she was doing. No one even knew where she was. Although, judging by the globe that was floating across the room, she had probably cast one of those "invisibility spells."

Miss Murdoch had fallen asleep, so everyone else was either firing spitballs at her, or launching paper planes into the the ugly mess she calls hair.

Gibby finishes his test and slams it down on Miss Murdoch's desk. He jumps up on it and starts dancing as the classroom erupts into cheers for Seattle's best shirtless dancer.

Carly keeps painting. Sam finishes and helps Wendy dig, still eating. The globe keeps floating.

Yep. Nothing new there.

I sigh and wait for the last bell to ring: Sam, Carly, and I were walking to the Groovy Smoothie after school.

Gibby keeps dancing. Sam, Wendy, and Shane keep digging. Westley and Tequila keep singing, beatboxing, and rapping.

All of a sudden, Westley whips out a keyboard and the intro to Viva la Vida by Hotpause fills the room. Tequila's clear voice cuts through the room, the powerful opening line making everyone fall silent.

_I used to rule the world: seas would rise when I gave the word. Now, in the morning, I sleep alone; sweep the streets that I used to own...._

Westley holds the last note, looking up at Tequila. She nods and pulls out an electric guitar. Gibby pulls out a drum machine.

Tequila nods.

"Let's do this."

They proceed to rock a Fall Out Boy-esque rendition of Viva la Vida, bowing to the fervent cheers of their classmates.

I sigh once more, happily. Just another day in the life of Freddie Benson.

The bell rings. I pick up my bag.

*****

Someone comes up behind me and pinches my ear. I sigh, then turn around to greet Sam.

"Hey, Princess Puckett."

"Hola, Fredlumps. Listen, I got something to tell ya."

"Shoot." I lean against the lockers, settling in for whatever she's gonna tell me.

"Well... I, uh..." She's stuttering. Sam Puckett NEVER stutters.

"Sam, are you okay?"

She blushes. "Of course I'm okay, nubbles, now let me finish!" she snaps.

"You barely -- wait. Nubbles?"

"Yeah, a cross between a nub and a chubbles!"

"Chubbles?!"

"Chubby bubbles? I don't know! I don't make this shit up!"

"Whatever! Finish talking!"

"Fredward Benson, don't you get smart with me!"

"SAM..."

"Fine. Don't get your panties in a twist," she says.

"Sam, I thought we established the fact that I'm a _boy_!"

"Whatever you say, Freddifer..."

"_SAM_," I say in an exasperated tone.

"_FREDLUMPS,_" she replied, mocking my tone.

"Stop it!"

"_You_ stop it!"

"Shut up!"

"Make me!!"

I pressed her against the lockers, pinning her arms above her head and capturing her lips in a kiss.

I pull back, smirking when I see her dazed exprssion. She blinks a bit and smirks back.

"Try that again and I'll kick you so hard your great-grandfather'll feel it."

"_Sure_ you will, Sammy. Sure you will."

"Whatever, Benson. Let's go; Carly's waiting."

**no im not Tequila how DARE you suggest such a thing *shifteh eyez* RAWR**

**Anywayz, R&R. See y'all later!**


	3. Fetish

**Just a little bit of average, drabble-y goodness that I wrote during my trip to Florida! They're about 17 here. Remember: it's not a series. These are just little slice-of-life ficlets!**

**Disclaimer: **_I. OWN. NOTHING!!!!!!!!_

Carly sighed happily as she walked into her apartment. It was a Friday night, free of homework, teachers, and Sam and Freddie. She loved them, of course, but sometimes, even the best of friends could use a break.

After school, they had all stopped by the Groovy Smoothie, as usual. Sam and Freddie had sputtered some excue and left within a few minutes of each other. Sam said something about her mom and a hanglider, and Freddie blathered on about some mother/daughter ice skating class his mom was forcing him to go to.

Carly hung her backpack on the coat rack, then yawned and stretched out on the sofa.

"Spencer, I'm home!"

"Hey, Carly! How was school?"

"Good!" _Sorta_, she added to herself. "I'm gonna take a nap!"

"Mmkay!"

She turned over and started to drift off.

_Slam._

"CARLAY! Can I borrow a bike chain and a pair of handcuffs?" Sam whipped open the door, her hair a tousled mess, and cheeks a raging crimson.

"Sam? Why are you wearing leather booty shorts?"

Indeed, the blonde was wearing leather booty shorts, a leather vest and a white tank top, and high heeled leather boots.

"Uh... Because I'm secretly in a biker gang?"

"Sure. Whatever. Check Spencer's room."

"YeahthanksiloveyouBYE!" Sam flew out the door, leaving a confused Carly in her wake.

*****

The next day, Carly was sitting on her couch, updating her Splashface page from her laptop.

_**Carly Shay: **__**anyone know what's up w/ S&F? they've been acting strange... **_

**1 comment:**

**Wendy Harrison:**** idk, but check their stats:**

**"**_**Sam Puckett:**__** i'd tell you, but i'd have to kill you.**_

_**Freddie Benson: **__**Somewhere special.**_**"**

_Slam._

"CARLYYY!"

"Why the hell are you wearing a Santa hat and lingerie?"

"Umm... Community service?"

"What did you DO?"

"Nothing! Something! Everything! I don't know! Lemme in your fridge!"

Sam rushed into the kitchen and grabbed chocolate syrup, a can of whipped cream, and some cherries from the fridge, then left the apartment.

"Carly, what was that?!" Spencer yelled from the studio.

_I wish I knew, _Carly thought.

*****

On Sunday, Spencer and Carly were seated on the sofa, eating soup.

"You're a terrible soup-maker, Spence."

"Shut up; I'm an artist, not a cook!"

_Slam._

"CARLY! PINEAPPLE! NOW! ... PLEASE!" Sam added as an afterthought.

"Why? Just... Why?" Carly was _not_ amused.

This time, Sam was decked out in a coconut shell bra, a grass skirt, and a flower lei.

"I'm a Hawai'ian showgirl after hours! Pineapple, please!"

Carly threw her one from the fruit bowl.

"Later!" Sam left.

"Why... Sam... outfits... stuff... just... WHY?" Spencer finally managed.

Carly smirked, finally piecing it together. "Sam and Freddie are into some kinky shit."

Spencer's jaw dropped open. A mouthful of soup dripped out of his mouth. "I'm... I'm gonna... go.... Yeah."

"You do that."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

Carly sat back down and turned on the T.V.

_They'll tell me sooner or later..._

_~*~*~*~*~_

**Welp, that's it! :D Reviews, please!!! The reviews will help unscar poor Spence... XD**

**Feel free to point out any errors. I don't proofread after I type; I proofread **_**while**_** I type. :P**

**Twitter: OMGitsSEDDIE**

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**FredLumpsBenson**

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